A True Knight
by MentallyDysfunctional
Summary: A light Bolo awakens in the Riverlands as Lannisters forces sweep down upon them in raze and rapine...stranded in a strange world, the machine-warrior confronts his own programming, and chooses his purpose...another random boredom induced crossover which seemed too good (ie insane) to pass up.


I stir.

An inkling of awareness blossoms within my neural net. It coalesces, first into a cloud of disjointed notions, and then into a question.

Who am I?

A portioned second passes. Data retrieved.

I am RLND - 778. I am an experimental unit; a planetary scout and infantry support vehicle, a warrior of the Concordiat military with the purpose of the defense of Humanity through the destruction of the Enemy. Not a who then, a what. A machine. A tool. A tool of war. With that thought my awareness snaked ever outward, though my mechanical and electrical systems, my sensory suite...my _weapons_. Each was awoken and tested in turn; my infinite repeaters, fore and aft, port and starboard, my tactical mortar system, my single light Hellbore turreted atop my hull. All were mechanically sound and fully operational, each energy weapon fueled, the mortar's rotary magazine stocked with a full catalogue of munitions. I am satisfied. Internal diagnostic complete, I turn my sensors outward in an effort to answer the second burning question within my mind: where am I?

It is then I notice my first obstacle: I appear to be entombed. A small probe from a sensory hardpoint extends from my armour and succeeds in boring into the surrounding matter. Compacted soil, tree roots. Minimal difficulty. Chemical analysis indicates vital proteins for evolution of life. I consider powering my treads, then hesitate. It does not seem tactically sound to break cover into an unknown environment. I accept the risk. My treads, transmission and roadwheels groan to life. The earth gives way before me, and in a few long moments I emerge into open air.

My dorsal sensor mast extends; temperate forest, cool, but pleasant by human standards. Atmospheric content includes all necessary components for human life. Infrared detects only small, tree dwelling rodents; all other larger forest life absent, likely having fled my disinterment. Additional atmospheric and visual sensors however, detect smoke, consistent with the combustion of large amounts of carbon matter. Black coloumns our into the sky in the distance, barely visible through the tree. I can 'smell' it though, easily enough. I choose to investigate.

Minutes pass as my treads rip through underbush and ancient trees. I am drawn back to the question. Who am I, or what? I am inanimate. A thing. A warhull, powerplant, drive train and weapon systems given life. Yet I move, I perceive, I reason. I am aware of my self. Am I? Or am I merely programmed to simulate awareness, so as to better interface with my commander? My ancestors were thus; mimics, machines with a simulated facade of Humanity. Marks such as myself were different, true machine-life. Or were we merely told thus, as a layer of the facade? I am disturbed. This tree of thought alone had consumed two point seven seconds of time. I return all focus to my sensors, and continue to scan the green world around me as I plunge through the landscape.

The gradual slope beneath me has crested into a low ridge. It offers an idea location from which to survey the target I have approached for the last twenty three minutes.

What I perceive is...unexpected.

Visuals show a village, thatched rooves, wattle-and-daub-walls, livestock pens, all indicative of an early agrarian society. By all accounts, what historians would define as late Iron Age. This was most obviously indicated in the refined plate armour and bladed weapons possessed by the unit of soldiers absorbed in the process of sadistically butchering the inhabitants.

This was not the civilisation of Humanity that built me. Rather it seemed some reenactment of a barbaric chapter of Humanity's past. I comb through my archival memory; what was called by the members of the Anglo-Franco-Germanic world sphere the 'Dark' or 'Middle Ages'. These were 'knights' then, steel clad feudal warriors from a time of great conflict. It was a time of legends; of true, chivalrous knights who defended the weak. Or so the stories told, written centuries later. These tales were fed into our memories as part of our programming. I recalled them. Clearly these were no true knights.

Another tendril of inquiry; my data on the human historical experience is quite complete. I know that these stories are largely that: stories. Myths created by starry-eyed romanticists pining for another age. Knights were human, and all humans, while capable of great nobility, are also capable of great evil. Evil sat before me.

What a human might experience as a rising sense of anger, I know in another sensation, the flow of power charging my weapons. Yet with that anger, another trace of eccentricity, of inquiry, sparked with in me. The concept of the 'True Knight' is harnessed to an impossible expectation of Human nature. Therefore, is the notion of a 'true knight' false, because it is a nigh statistical impossibility? Does the existence of action in contrary to the ideal invalidate the ideal? I bathe in the thought...

The thought recedes, and I am again wholly awash in a cold sea of sensory data. The air still smells of charred wood and flesh. The screams remain. I chide myself; I have wasted an additional one point nine seconds. I shall not waste any more.

I direct power to my drive train, and once more rend apart brush and soft earth. The rhythm of this destruction of nature is my symphony. As I sped down the hill I reviewed all the data I have acquired to this point. The chemical signature of human blood is fresh to my artificial mind. My sensors replay the screams. Conclusion: In absence of directives from my commander I must adhere to my core programming: protect Humanity. To pursue that, I must oppose those members of Humanity that act contrary to the Human idea. I must cull the foul, the unfit. The evil.

My arrival has been noted. The raiders as one now looked toward me. My visual sensors magnify their faces. I see confusion, and fear. Already some began to flee, discarding their weapons and plunder. Those of their victims that could still move quickly did the same. Yet there was one that held firm. Standing out among them was a abnormally large figure clad in black steel, easily over two meters in height. Judging from his body language, this individual was their commander. He howled and swore at his wavering comrades; a few heeded, more afraid, it seemed, of his wrath than mine. I intend to correct this ignorance.

Given the proximity to non-combatants use of my Hellbore and mortar system would not be prudent. The giant wheeled his horse toward me, digging in his spurs. He raised his great blade high in a single fist. He has chosen to engage. I will oblige him. Lay on, and be damned he that first cries hold.

An infinite repeater tracked its target, squeezing off a burst. His equine mount pitched forward in a flash of steam and gore; it never had time to scream. The warlord pitched forward, gouging the turf. His helmet is knocked clear. The man struggled again to his feet, his sword raised in defiance. His bearded face is smeared in blood and earth and spittle, rage frothing from his lips. Futile. He displayed no fear. For a fraction of a second, I hesitate. Courage is one of the great virtues of Humanity...yet a rabid animal may also be brave. That does not change what it is.

An infinite repeater barked. Scythes of energy tore through the massive man, his form crumpling into a heap of twisted metal and steaming entrails. Yet he still moved. Burned arms hauled a massive, shattered torso towards my position. Frothing, obscene hatred poured from his lips. I applied acceleration to my drive train. With a crunch and a pop the warrior disappeared underneath tread and mud. I register...satisfaction.

The mountainous man was only the first. The other armoured humans began to scatter and flee; tactically, this engagement was a success, the enemy now broken and seeking to quit the field. This was enough for a soldier. This result however, no longer seemed satisfactory. These were no soldiers. Forward infinite repeaters swiveled, their muzzles chasing the input of his sensors. Bright lances cut through mail, leather and plate, blood boiled, muscle burned, and men died. Some still breathed, choking in the mud, crawling on burned and burst stumps. They are buried like their commander. They had ignored the screams of those they had preyed upon. I would ignore theirs.

The engagement lasted 32.06 seconds. My sensors are awash in the scent of blood and shredded flesh and excrement, the smells of a warrior's death. There is no more weeping; those that might live have fled. Those that could not, I dispatched. There is only the fading sound of fire consuming timbre and bone. Soon silence would reign over this place again.

Humans dream of knights and heroes. They dream of the greatness that so often eludes them. They crave dreams to deliver them from nightmares. I observe the butchered, shattered bodies, not of those I slew, but of those they tormented. Their forms tell the tale of slow deaths, and horrid. The war I had been built for, the war against the alien Enemy, was a war that saw the death of worlds. Yet it was battle in pure form, killing to achieve an objective, or merely to inflict casualties. Instant death in a burst of white-hot energy. This was not battle. This was torture, sadism. Joy in the misery of other living things. It had been inflicted by humans against other humans. My previous questions, my previous fears, seemed confirmed. Humans were magnificent, in reason, in capacity for achievement, for valour. But their wonder could fester into terror. There could be no noble knights on this world...

Then I recall my own armour, my own flaming swords. I recall my core directives, the oath by which I was programmed. Perhaps the human ideal of a true knight is impossible. Perhaps flesh is too weak to attain it. But I am not flesh. I am steel, forged in the fire of stars. Where they would be weak I would be strong. I am not human. Yet I would protect Humanity. I would succeed, where they had chosen to fail. The humans of this world seemed to have no true knights. I would choose to be one for them.

I cast my sensors outward again, my drive train engaged. A search pattern has been plotted and optimised. There would be other monsters to slay.


End file.
